


maybe tomorrow

by pagkalunod (sisinala)



Series: Panaog [2]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: F/M, Mafia AU, beng beng, ummm smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisinala/pseuds/pagkalunod





	maybe tomorrow

                Adela shuts the door behind her, dog-tired. Why does she continue living this half-life, floating in and out of existence? _Fuck it all._ She reaches for the hardest drink the fancy hotel room had in their fridge. She plops her gear on the floor, unclips all the holsters she has on her body and then proceeds to toe off her boots. She was in desperate need of something else though. Something that started with the letter V.

                Just in time, a knock sounds at the door.

                “Delay?”

                “I’m in here, Enteng.” She fiddles with her earrings, the pearls that she never takes off. The door creaks open, and he sees her sprawled across the bed, swinging her legs to the phantom rhythm of the universe.

                “Wow, you look handsome.” He walks inside with his business suit still on, carrying a briefcase that contained his favorite M82, painted a silvery black. Her rifle was a brother sniper rifle, an M95—which she got at almost half the price of his gun—which she was proud to have acquired by her own damn hard work.  Vicente had his by the time he was nine, and he could use it perfectly by the time he was twelve. The Enriquez were beyond loaded because they were that good.

                Vicente carefully places his briefcase down and joins her on the bed, spreading his arms and sighing.

                “Hello,” he said, loosening his tie and toeing off his own shiny oxfords. He didn’t care that they would have sole marks tomorrow.

                “Hello.”

                “How was your day?” And then they start this _thing_ again, this pretend okay-space that they shared just because they were both mourning and the world didn’t care. It soothed them to the point that sometimes they believe their lies.

                “Bad. My target fucking ducked. Ducked! He moved two inches beyond mark and—” She couldn’t stop laughing, because her day had also been shit and it was good, _so good_ that he was here again. Delay wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes.

                “Okay, okay. Stop it. How about yours?”

                “My target didn’t show up.” The foreign politicians’ plane had been held up, and she found out that he was arrested for drugs somewhere in Europe. So, her client wouldn’t pay and she doesn’t know how she’ll afford her next month’s rent. It sucks, hating your family to the point that their help would taste like acid.  

                “So I guess we’re both stuck at forty-nine.” She checks her mental tally. In the last month Enteng took down two targets at once, putting them in a tie. One more and the oath they made at eight would finally be concluded.

 _“I can ask for whatever?”_ She twirled her hair with her index finger. They were young and didn’t know what betting fifty take-downs meant in the real world, only that it would probably make his family proud and make hers let her go.

                “I guess.” She sighs, feeling the hollow in her chest that she tries to fill with Enteng. She rolls around, squeezing herself into his side. He puts his arms around her, tight and warm. He sighs into her hair.

                “I missed you.”

                “I did, too.”

                She couldn’t say “ _Don’t leave me that long again, please?”_ so instead,

                “How was your flight?”

                “It was good.”

                They were running out of words. Soon he’ll have her on her back, driving her to heights she wished were true. “ _I love you,”_ she ached to say. How would he believe her? She loved his brother first, and then when she fucked up, he died. How does he still touch her with all the hate he must have for her? This is why she prefers to believe his lies.

 _“Delay, let me in please.”_ He was with her that night, instead of grieving with his family. She buried her face into her pet chicken, hiding her broken sobs into the feathers as Tiger nuzzled her cheek.

 _“Delay, I know you’re in there.”_ Was she? She felt like a shit stain on the floor. He kept knocking at her door. Vicente pressed his forehead onto it, feeling their pain mingle until it became a living thing that pulsed in his head. Who else understands his pain other than her?

 _“I got him killed, Vicente. Etoy is dead because of me.”_ He was his brother.  He loved him even though she only had eyes for him. But there was this voice in his head that thanked Anacleto for finally leaving. He stamped that voice down until it was dead.

 _“Leave, Enteng. You don’t have to pretend for me.”_ They were quiet for a while that she thought that he left. When she thought that, she felt like she was being stabbed through the stomach again.

_“I lost him too.”_

                “Hello? Are you still here? Delang?” He was smiling up at her. She was his whole world and she didn’t believe it. That’s alright though, he knows she just lets him because he looked like his brother. It hurts, yes—but he’d have whatever’s left of her heart.

                She looks at him with shining eyes, wishing that they were real—that she could tell him what she truly felt without shattering this fake peace they had between them.

                Delay falls apart, without meaning too. She was tired, and she loved him.

                Enteng was there, always there—where Anacleto never was.

                She kissed him, because she knew nothing else. She rolled over him, clutching his shirt as she takes what she wished were hers. She straddles him, and her shirt hikes up her waist. His hands follow her there, caressing what was revealed to him. He drags her down, over him—where they could fit over each other through their clothes. He tries to turn them over, but she presses him down. No. No more.

                Tonight, he would know. Even if it breaks her heart.

                She runs her hand down his chest, grabbing the front of his belt. It was a wonder how fast they could relieve each other of each other’s clothes. In a few minutes, Enteng was lying down on the pillows, as bare as her. She had her hands on his belt, and she cracks it as she stares down at him.

                “I need to tell you something.” Enteng was staring at her hungrily, and it doesn’t seem like he was listening. That was something she could fix. Delay threads her fingers through his, lifting his hands above his head and through the bed posts.

                “Oh. So this is how you’d have me?” Enteng’s smirk did something to her insides and she slid over him, quieting him with a twist of her hips.

                “Can I?”

                “Whatever you want, love.” Fuck. He knew what that word does to her. He often groans it in her ear in praise. He stares at her as she secures his wrists with his belt, egging her on with a sly smile.

                “Now, what will you do—” She shuts him up with a kiss and her hand fisting around him. He groans in her ear and she smiles into his lips. This was what he gets for denying her all those times before.

                _You are so beautiful above me. My queen, wearing only the pearls I gave you. Ruin me._

                She kisses her way down his body, gently raking her nails down his abdomen. Vicente struggles, his arms flexing as he tries to pull at his binds. She kisses him, then licks her way around. He groans, and she writes her name on him before taking him in her mouth.

                “Fuck—Adela—” She makes him scream a string of curses as he tries not to trap her with his thighs. She moaned, and the vibrations shakes him to his core. She makes him scream her name in broken sobs, unable to control her with hands on her hair as he usually does. He was too hot, and she tries not to gag as he finishes.

                Vicente feels like passing out. Delay bites her lips as she swallows. This was one of her favorite sights. Vicente looks fucked out, his eyes unfocused.

                “Taste yourself, mahal.” She kisses him, and he responds in weak kisses. She licks his lips and he opens, groaning as he chases her tongue with his. She brings him back up, and she tries not to drown in him. After a while, they both have no patience for any more foreplay.

                Delang bites his lip enough to draw blood because his focus should only be with her.

                “Listen to me, Enteng,” she says as she fits herself over him. “I love you. More than you know, more than I should be allowed.”

                “Dela—“

                “No. Me first. You can’t come until I tell you. Beg me, Enteng.”

                “I—But Anacleto—“

                “Don’t, Enteng—Anacleto is gone. Let’s let him go. Let yourself be mine, instead. My Enteng. I’ll love you if you let me.”

                “Ade—Delang! I’ve always loved you—You know that—ah!”

                “Shh… Let’s talk after.”

                “You can come now.” she punctuated the words with every movement of her hips. Vicente couldn’t stop himself from chasing her every time she comes up. Delang raked her hands through his hair, keeping him in place as she drove them higher and higher.

                They break, and Delang takes all that he could give.

...

                “Did you mean what you said?” He says as she rests her head on his chest.

                “You callin’ me a liar, Enriquez?”

                “I—” She kisses his cheek softly.

                “I love you,” he said it so quietly she didn’t know if he meant for her to hear.

                “Well, I love you too. You’re mine now, Enteng.”

                He smiles.

 


End file.
